Candy
by routavaurio
Summary: The Iron Bull fulfills his promise to introduce Cole to a nice lady named Candy in order to "get him sorted out", but the evening probably won't go the way anyone expected. One shot.


**SPOILERS FOR A COUPLE OF INSTANCES OF PARTY BANTER BETWEEN COLE AND THE IRON BULL AND VERY MINOR SPOILERS FOR COLE'S PERSONAL QUEST.**

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><p><strong>Candy<strong>

It is the first time The Iron Bull seeks him out instead of the other way around. The Iron Bull's steps are loud against the wooden stairs of the tavern, for a moment almost drowning out the sounds of others' pain. He smiles and it's a real smile and it's good. The Iron Bull waves at him, almost claps him in the back before the lingering reservations about demons remind him not to.

"Hey, Cole," The Iron Bull says, "I finally got Candy for you. Remember Candy?"

Candy. The cook makes candy sometimes, when she is especially happy. It usually requires lots of dancing and playing cats. A lot of cheese and mint.

"Yes," Cole says, "But I don't eat."

The Iron Bull laughs. Bold, boisterous, as always.

"No, I meant the nice lady I told you about. Remember?"

The question makes Cole uneasy, because he only remembers The Iron Bull mention her once. Has he made himself forget? He does it sometimes, just like he does to other people. But lately it has been harder to do it. Partly because he doesn't even want to really try.

"No. I don't think I have ever met her."

"Yeah, you haven't. But you remember me talking about her, right?"

"Yes."

"Good! She's here now, waiting for you."

"Why?" Cole asks, then a thought makes his mind and face brighten, "Does she need help?"

The Iron Bull laughs again.

"Nah, she's going to help _you_. I told you. Both feet on the ground and all that."

"You said I could lift my feet," Cole argues. The conversation is going on routes he cannot quite follow. The Iron Bull has thoughts about the thing a lot of people do and seem to like and what Cole has seen mages do in the White Spire sometimes when the templars aren't watching, but those things are on The Iron Bull's mind a lot of the time anyway. Cole does know The Iron Bull expects something of him, but he doesn't know what. This Candy wants to help him? He is the one who helps, not the other way around. He stands up from the floor anyway, because The Iron Bull is a friend and this seems important to him. He lets The Iron Bull lead him out of the tavern and towards one of the unused rooms in Skyhold.

"I told her to wait in there," The Iron Bull speaks and points while they walk, proud and pleased of himself, "She already got paid, and you have all night. She's real nice like I said, and she says she's handled many... well, first-timers. And if you happen to be into something a bit kinkier – or find out you are, at least – she doesn't mind. She's good, too. Trust me, kid, I know."

Cole doesn't understand everything, but he nods quietly because he gathers that is what The Iron Bull wants. They stop at a door that has once been a proud pine with many dead bodies buried in the roots. The Iron Bull opens the door, peeks inside so eagerly that his dragon horns almost catch in the doorway.

"Hey, Candy," he says, his smile different now than before, "He's here now."

"Well, bring him in, then."

The voice in the room is almost too sweet, kind of like how candy smells like. Maybe that's why her name is Candy. The Iron Bull steps aside, his big hand pushing Cole through the doorway. The Iron Bull briefly closes his remaining eye, a gesture with implications Cole doesn't fully understand yet. It seems to mean too many things for him to determine which one it is half the time.

"Lock the door, kid, or put your hat on the handle or something. Then go have _fun_."

Cole touches his hat protectively on instinct.

"My hat wouldn't keep the door shut. Why does it need to be shut, anyway?"

There is a sweet laugh behind him, and the woman named Candy steps past Cole.

"Now, now, big guy. We'll be fine."

Candy presses the door shut. She fiddles with the lock and then turns to Cole. She is wearing clothes that look uncomfortable and she has a white and red porcelain face. She has a mask, too. Her real name is Marguerite, but it hurts her and she doesn't want to use it.

"It's a pretty name," Cole says, "It shouldn't hurt."

Candy looks at him with confusion. A lot people do the same, so Cole is used to it. She then smiles again.

"So, Bull told me you are Cole. It's nice to meet you."

"Yes," Cole says, "I _am_ Cole. It's nice that you see me too... Candy."

He almost calls her Marguerite, but catches himself in time. There are tangles in her and he fears he will tear them like he has done with The Iron Bull and Dorian. He tries to find the loose end where he can start pulling gently, but Candy's small hurts get in the way. Candy steps forward, a smile Cole has only seen directed at others – mostly The Iron Bull or Dorian or the Inquisitor – on her face. Her fingernails are painted, red like droplets of blood, or how the bad templars are inside, and they catch at the brim of his hat when she slowly pulls the hat off.

"Let me take a look at you, Cole," she says, using his name to fill a blank in a rehearsed speech, "You seem a bit nervous. It's all right. Most are during their first time. That or just really, really drunk."

She laughs at her own words, giggling, giddy, glazing over past pain to make it seem less bad. She peers into his eyes, not past eyes like he does.

"Don't worry," she says, "It will be fine. We'll have so much fun."

"I had fun once, not too long ago," Cole says, "My friend took me to Val Royeaux."

"That's nice," Candy replies, "So, what would you like us to do? Or do you want me to guide you?"

"I want to help people," Cole says automatically.

"A nice kid, are you?" Candy laughs strangely, then her voice lowers to almost a whisper, "Well, maybe you'd like to be a little less nice for a moment?"

She moves differently now, dances, sways like a flame, flitting, floating. Her hand moves to Cole's shoulder, blood red fingernails drawing invisible lines on his shirt. She is careful, not wanting to scare him, but Cole isn't scared. Just confused. He doesn't want to be less nice. Candy is not hurting anyone, so there is no reason for him to do anything but help. Cole looks past her eyes, into her, finds the little hurts again. He picks up that she wants to make him feel good, but he can't feel good unless he helps her. Cole falters. He can't help unless he finds something else. He tries to find Marguerite, to know why Candy has her locked away.

Candy dances around him, her hands sliding to his back and then back around to his chest. She pushes him gently backwards, towards a bed and Cole figures she wants to sit down. He lets her past and grabs his hat on the way. It has fallen from Candy's grasp moments ago. Candy looks at it.

"If you want to leave it on, then you can," she says again in that almost-whisper voice, "But you have pretty eyes, you don't need to hide."

Some have hidden themselves from her in the past, some hidden everything from her. A cloth over her eyes as hands touch without warning. Sometimes she can't even move, her hands clutching a bed's headboard in the darkness. She is afraid of the dark but she doesn't say anything because it would upset them. Candy's smile shrinks when Cole says it out loud, but she says nothing about it. She pats the bed.

"Come on. You're shy, but I'll guide you."

Cole sits carefully next to her. He fiddles with his hat but doesn't put it back on yet because Candy wants to see his eyes. He puts it on the bed instead.

"The Iron Bull said I could lift my feet," he states.

Candy's smile returns. Her fingers brush his cheek and she leans in close, too close for proper conversation.

"Honey, you can do whatever you want."

She says it with ease, but it's practised and laced with fear she has mostly learned to contain. Fear that _whatever he wants _will hurt her. She will accept it all anyway because it's her role and a big part of her has grown to like it. It's a play she has played so many times the mask has stuck.

"I don't want to hurt you," Cole reassures her, backing away a little bit to fix their distance, "You haven't hurt people. I want to help."

"You can start by helping me get out of this dress," Candy rasps, moving, dancing so that her hands rest on Cole's knees and she looks at Cole as if expecting something. She pushes her chest forward a bit. Her clothes must be uncomfortable if they force her into such a position. Why she would wear something that hurts her is beyond Cole.

"Are you stuck in your dress?" he asks, "Doesn't it want to let go?"

Candy looks at him with disbelief, but then seems to catch herself and arranges a smile on her mask.

"Oh, yes, terribly stuck. Will you help me, honey?"

Cole knows the clothes aren't what she really needs help with. Cole mentally reaches for her mask, tries to tug it loose just a little bit because her worst tangle is behind it. Behind it there is Marguerite, and she is angry and sad. Why? Cole wonders for a moment before it hits him.

"You are angry at your mother," he says quietly.

Candy's face is very close to his and she has been slowly sliding her hands up his thighs – something that makes him very uncomfortable – but she stills at his words. Cole uses her distraction to squirm a bit to the side, trying to be polite and gentle when he pushes her away.

"But your mother loves you," he continues, "And you love her."

Candy stares, this time not at his eyes but through them, not trying to see into his head, but at the wall behind him. There was a time when most people saw the wall behind him by default. Now it is not quite so. More people want him to stick and Cole wants to stick more because the walls don't usually comfort people like he can. Her mask cracks and the memories flood through.

"A clay plate crashing against the wall," Cole says, lapsing into the hurt he has finally caught hold of, "Anger, boiling inside both of us. 'I don't need you to tell me what to do!' I am young, so young, and mother worries, but she shouldn't worry because I am also an adult and she wants to keep me caged but she has no right..."

"How did you..." Candy gasps and shakes her head furiously, "No, stop! Whatever it is that you're doing, just stop!"

Cole stops, afraid he is tearing the knot instead of untangling it carefully like he should. Candy takes off her red and white face and wipes her eyes. She is pretty underneath the porcelain, but there is also paint there and it gets smeared with her tears.

"Look, Cole," she says, "I already got paid so I'd like to get my work done. Do you want sex or not?"

"What?" Cole frowns, thoroughly confused, "_No_. I want to help."

Candy stands up straight, crossing her arms, hiding her hurt.

"What am I doing here, then?" she asks.

Cole knows he has to be careful. He thinks of Dorian and Dorian's father. Dorian tried to explain their problem to him, and Cole believes he understands it now. They love each other like Candy and her mother do, but they also hurt each other and the hurt was worse because of the love.

"You said things you shouldn't have said and you are sad because you meant them," Cole says slowly, almost afraid to touch the knots, "Mother never liked Antoine. She was right later but back then she wasn't and you're angry because she made it worse, but now it's _all_ wrong and there's no going back."

Candy breathes in deep, air hitching in her throat.

"I'm leaving," she snaps, "If Bull ever sets me up with someone other than him, I'm not taking the money. Three royals isn't worth _this_."

Cole stands up and almost touches her arm to stop her.

"You think there's no going back, but there is. You and mother both said things you regret, but you still love each other. You're not really angry any more. You're just afraid you still are. That you both are."

Candy looks at him again, eyes wide with wonder. Cole puts as much of himself into his next words as he dares. Even too much Compassion is sometimes unsettling and he has come to know it. It could scare people, even make them angry.

"You wanted to show her you were good on your own but she didn't believe you. But she does now, and she is sorry about what she said too. She misses you."

"Well, I don't miss her," Candy sniffs, lies, "I have a good life now. I'm a working girl, if you haven't noticed."

"Is your mother also why your name hurts?" Cole closes his eyes briefly, tries to catch the hurt again, "No... it's something else."

"'Candy' is all my clients need to know," Candy says, "They come to me to get some Candy, and they do. It's that simple."

The way she says it sounds like it's supposed to be a joke. A joke she has heard many, many times. Cole doesn't get why it's funny.

"It's simpler because then it's less you. Then it's the mask they tease, touch, take, instead."

"I... yes. You're a weird one, you know?" Candy sighs mostly to herself, "Why am I still here?"

"Because you want to heal?" Cole asks hopefully. Candy smiles again, this time with her real face. There is a bit of dreaminess in her mind, haze that Cole can guide into people's heads to make them ignore him. But now – like usually – he simply uses it to heal, to soothe her so she isn't afraid.

"I... Maybe you do want to help," she admits, "But... me and my mother haven't talked in years. This isn't something one can just fix."

"Yes, it is," Cole says, "You both want to talk and apologise and stop being angry. You just have to do it."

"I can't," Candy says quickly, but she wavers, "I wouldn't even know what to say to her."

"I could help you with _that_!" Cole says, eagerly finding a piece of parchment from a desk drawer in the corner, "You can write a letter to her right now!"

Candy stares at the parchment as if it might bite her. Well, the sheep it is made of did bite people a lot, but Cole doubts it would do so any more. There is a long moment when Candy's mind is a mess and then she steps towards Cole, disbelief in her eyes.

"_This _is what you want to spend your friend's money on?" she asks.

"No," Cole says, confused, "This isn't about money. This is about untangling the knots that are knotting your heart to hurting. I... I don't always say things right, but this isn't about my words either, but yours and you already know the words if you just try."

Candy's mask cracks again, and this time there is real laughter behind it.

"All right, honey. We'll do it your way, then."

They work late into the night. There is apology and anger in Candy and she wants it all on ink and animal skin, but it's hard to get her thoughts in order. Cole helps the best he can, but lets her do most of the work. It is her hurt and her words, after all. When she is finally finished, she smiles, glad, gentle, genuine. She clutches the now finished letter to her chest and rises from the chair she has been sitting on for hours.

"Looks like my time is up," she says, "I hope you had fun."

"Yes, yes I did," Cole says, "I hope you had too."

"It was... well, it helped me a lot. Thank you."

"I am glad."

Candy puts the letter into the small bag she has with her and takes her porcelain face from where she has dropped it. She doesn't put it back on. She doesn't put her mask on either.

"You can call me Marguerite, if you like," she says, "It's all right if _you_ do that."

Cole smiles at her.

"Marguerite..." he tastes the name, "I like it better than 'Candy'. Candy smells too sweet. Marguerite is more real. Like I am now."

Marguerite shakes her head, amused.

"Where does Bull find these guys?"

She turns and opens the locked door. It's still dark outside and Cole offers to escort her to the wagon that will take her away because she fears the dark even though she doesn't admit it. She walks like she dances, flowing, flitting, but her mind doesn't flee like it sometimes does when she dances. She says farewell with a kiss on his cheek, and it makes him confused but he knows she means well.

"_Au revoir_, Cole," she says before leaving, "It was nice meeting you."

"Good bye, Marguerite."

She leaves, and he returns to the room they have spent the night in and takes his hat from the bed. He puts it back on and reminds himself to thank The Iron Bull the next day. Before that, though, he might be able to snatch a few daggers from the angrier soldiers while they sleep.

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><p><strong>Author's Notes: So I'm a bit sick now and that apparently makes me want to throw up this (not literally, though, my throat just hurts, that's all) story. As you can probably guess, I've been playing A LOT of Dragon Age: Inquisition lately and Cole pretty much jumped right away to my list of favourite characters in... well, anything, really. I really wanted to try to write him and I have to post this fast before I realise it was a terrible idea and sucks in every way possible. It was fun to write, though so I regret nothing! Unless someone wants to burn a computer after reading this, but in that case it's out of my hands.<strong>

**Also, present tense for extra weirdness. I figured it fits in this one even though I normally find it very awkward (and this was supposed to be awkward so...)**


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